


First Week Back

by cemetery_driven



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, High School, M/M, coffeeshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetery_driven/pseuds/cemetery_driven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>School's been back a week, it's Saturday, and Frank has nothing to do but wait around for Gerard to finish work and bring him soup and other nice things. Including a pretty great flavored chapstick.</p><p>[written for prompt #194 on everythingsfrerardnothinghurts.tumblr.com.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Week Back

[everythingisfrerardandnothinghurts: prompt #194 - “Are you wearing Dr. Pepper chapstick?”]

It's just turned autumn and there's still warmth in the sun. It's starting, just barely, to dip into the lower end of the thermometer after sunset. Frank likes it this way. It means summer's ending and that soon he'll be able to wear hoodies and shirts and jeans all day, every day, without sweltering and ending up with heatstroke again.

It also means school's back, but Frank can deal with that. He's had a lot worse things happen in his first week back. The last week has been pretty easygoing actually, all things considered. He guesses the change back to the good ol' public school system might be the kicker. Like, the Catholic school shit was cool for the first fifteen seconds with everyone dressed in pleated skirts and blazers and ties, but it got real boring real fast, and just as ugly. Rich kids were pricks, and rich kids made up some ninety-seven percent of that school's attendance. Frank's parents busted ass for years saving up for that shit. He felt kinda bad when he said he didn't want to go back there, but at the same time, they'd have more money to spend on things more useful than Bible class.

And Saturdays are even better now because there's not an extra class full of bullshit to write up assignments for. This Saturday in particular, because it's the first week back, Frank is completely free and, in fact, lying with his feet on the head of his bed reading Doom Patrol. He's been reading Doom Patrol for three hours.

Gerard should be here soon. Anytime soon. He was meant to knock off at the coffee shop around three-thirty, maybe four, then he'd do the usual and call his grandma, go back to his own place and shower and maybe Frank would go over to get some of Mrs. Way's amazing concoctions after dinner or Gerard would bring over potato soup from the shop and they'd reheat it in the microwave if Frank's parents were doing their own thing. It was just-on quarter to five, and Frank wasn't sure what was happening at all tonight.

Frank really hopes it's the soup because Gerard's work makes the best fucking potato soup he's ever tasted. 

Someone knocks on Frank's door and it might be his mom but it could be Gerard. Frank's mom gets kinda cranky when he doesn't answer the door 'properly,' as she put it, but if it isn't Gerard and he doesn't have soup, Frank doesn't want to move from his little dusk-light sort-of-sunbeam.

“I'm decent,” Frank calls out, flicking to the next page. He wishes he had gum, it's difficult to chew his nails and read but he wants to chew something. 

“Hey Frankie,” Gerard says, and Frank hears his messenger bag drop on the floor. He sticks the piece of scrap paper between his pages so he doesn't lose his place and rolls over.

“Hey babe,” he replies. “Long day?”

Gerard sighs and flops down on the bed. “So fucking long. So many customers who just have no idea at all and my shoulder hurts. Fuckin' Jimmy hit me right here,” he says, pointing. “Right here and that's just shot it all to shit. Like, he didn't mean for it to hurt and he apologized but fuck. The guy won't do fucking dishes ever. Carolyn yelled at him though.”

“For hitting you?”

“For taking too long to dry the glasses he refused to wash,” Gerard laughs. “Fuckin' dick.”  
“Kill him with fire,” Frank says, completely straight-faced.

Gerard snorts. “That's your answer to everything, you do know that?”

Frank shrugs and brings a hand up into Gerard's hair. “It'd work. C'mere.” 

“What?”

“I haven't kissed you since like, four o’clock yesterday you douche.”

Frank pulls him in and kisses him square on the mouth, all tongue and a little bit of teeth because Gerard likes it that little bit sloppy and a touch more rough. And fuck it, Frank is a teenager and Gerard looks really cute when he's all sweaty and gross after work and the smell of coffee mixed with that is a big yes please.

“Are you wearing Dr. Pepper chapstick Gee?” Frank asks when he stops to breathe.

“Um. Yeah, yeah. Mel went to some place and bought the biggest shitload of the stuff ever so I she sold me one for two bucks,” Gerard explains, looking the slightest bit sheepish. “I, uh, I know you like Dr. Pepper and I do too and it just. It was one thing that went right before I knocked off today.”

Frank gives Gerard another peck. “You're adorable.”

“Shut the fuck up, dick.”

“Eat a dick, fuck,” Frank shoots back, poking out his tongue. He springs up off the bed. “You got some of that amazing fucking soup? Because mom and dad are having some steak or roast or I don't even know-”

“When are you going to tell them you're going vegetarian?”

“They're Italian, so never,” Frank sighs. “But for real. Soup?”

Gerard pokes him in the side. “I even made it this week. I peeled like thirty fucking pounds of potatoes on Wednesday afternoon for that shit. I put extra pepper in it though, I know you like the little kick.”

Frank groans. “I fucking love you, Gerard. You and your fucking soup and fucking Dr. Pepper chapstick, ugh,” he whines, turning on his heel and heading out of the room toward the kitchen. Gerard hears the sound of dishes clattering as Frank hunts for clean bowls, and Gerard follows in his footsteps, collecting the tupperware container of 'potato-ey goodness from beyond the stars' on his way out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry I went on about soup so much.


End file.
